


Just Breathe

by ring_around_the_daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Castiel and Dean end up helping each other, Dean deals with his anger issues, Depression, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied Abortion, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, PTSD, Sam Dies, attempted suicide, talk about drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ring_around_the_daisy/pseuds/ring_around_the_daisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing both his wife and sister in the span of 5 years, Castiel sets off on a road trip to run from everything. His life is slowly falling apart.</p><p>When Dean's younger brother overdoses on drugs, he enlists in the army. He is forced into discharge, though, when an injury shatters his pelvis. He fights alcoholism and is slowly putting his life back together with the help of the surly owner of a scrap yard and the tough as nails woman who owns the Roadhouse. </p><p>The two meet in an unexpected way and just might be the key to getting each other to enjoy life again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake,_

  
_"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?,_

  
_I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season"_

 

Castiel was laying back in bed, staring up at his ceiling. Sleeping wasn't something he'd had much luck with for a while, not that anyone could really blame him. Most nights, the only reason he got sleep was because his body finally gave into exhaustion. Simple as that. The nightmares would start soon after, though. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a decent nights sleep or was able to go a night without waking up in a cold sweat and freaking out. It had been nearly five years since it happened but the scars and trauma of it were still very much at the surface for him.

His wedding ring still rested on his left hand, him not having the heart to remove it, knowing he would be looking at a white imprint against his otherwise tan skin. It would only be a more jarring reminder that she was gone and never coming back. She'd been the love of his life, they'd known each other since high school, and just like that, she was gone. Every night, the scene played out in his head and every time he would stare helplessly as he was unable to do anything to help.

It had been an icy winter night and they were driving back from her parents house. They had insisted on them staying the night but he had said it would be fine, that they'd be careful and make it home okay. He'd talked about how the cat wouldn't know what to do with himself with a night alone and that he also wanted to sleep in his own bed. Another thing was that he also wanted to enjoy the last little bit of the night with Sharon. No matter how much time they spent together, he still wanted more.

He'd been the driver that night even though Sharon had asked to drive, saying she was better at driving in bad weather. Again, he'd insisted on driving, saying she should just relax on the drive back home. It would take them nearly half an hour to make it, probably more with the ice on the road slowing them down. He'd known about the ice but he hadn't looked closely enough for it. While he'd been told it had been black ice, that no one could have seen it, he still blamed himself for what happened. If he had been more careful or had just stayed at his in laws house for the night, she would still be alive.

The loss of control of the wheels had been sudden and no amount of braking had helped. They'd spun out and the car ended up wrapping itself around a tree. He'd been in a daze when his eyes had opened, distantly aware of something thick and warm running down the side of his face. Glass had been dug into a lot of his skin and he felt like he'd been forced into an unnatural position. His eyes had flickered over to the side, looking for Sharon. He'd tried to say her name but found his jaw unable to work. He'd later been made aware that his jaw had been broken in the crash.

Even through the daze he was in, he could see that her neck was bent unnaturally and that she was too still. There were no groans of pain coming from her, there was only silence. That silence had been louder than anything he'd ever heard before, though, and it had hurt him. He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to admit that it was true, but he knew she was dead. He'd insisted on driving that night and she was dead because of him. His consciousness hadn't lasted that much longer, the sound of sirens going through his head as he faded out. 

When he'd woken up again, the first thing he registered was a dull, throbbing pain. It radiated through him and it seemed to take an extreme amount of effort just to open his eyes. The room was dim, the overhead light seeming to just barely be on. His mind was in a fog and he couldn't seem to string together one coherent thought. He would start to make one and then it would stop halfway through and just fade away.

His jaw ached and he tried to stretch it out but found he couldn't move it. This sent panic flooding through him and his eyes widened and he strained, trying his best to open his mouth and just scream. Hands had been put on him then, holding him down and telling him to stop. At the time, he couldn't really retain much, his mind blind with panic at not being able to control one part of his body. Then, a wave of calm rushed over him and he laid back on the bed, eyes relaxing. Looking back, he was sure they'd given him morphine but he hadn't thought to ask while he was there.

After he was calm and pliant, the doctor, at least he thought the person was a doctor, began explaining what had happened. That he'd been in a car crash and broken a lot of bones, including his jaw which was now wired shut until it could heal. He was told he'd need a lot of physical therapy and that it would be a long road to recovery for him. He was then told that his wife hadn't survived the crash. That had him freezing and he could swear he felt his heart literally break in that moment. Tears had started running down his face and he just cried, wanting to turn in on himself but being unable to because of how they had him set up.

Today he still had a lot of physical reminders of what had happened. There were various surgical scars on his body as well as the fact that his knees were bad now. He was 35 and had the knees of someone twice his age. At times he would have to use a cane but he tried his best to avoid it, sometimes going so far as to suffer through the pain just to prove he didn't need it. His jaw was also prone to aches and pains and he wore a mouth guard at night to stop him from grinding his teeth. The teeth grinding had started as a stress response and just ended up making his jaw hurt even more than it already did.

His nose was slightly crooked now and some of his fingers were oddly shaped. They all worked just fine, for now, but he knew he was destined for arthritis or something similar when he got older. These physical, day to day reminders never failed to make him want to cry.

So, here he was, laying back in bed and staring up at the ceiling until exhaustion took him over. Just as he could feel his eyes starting to droop, a shrill ring burst out and light shined from his phone. Groaning, he reached for it blindly and pressed talk. His voice was even more rough than usual when he answered, sure he sounded like he was half dead. Most days he felt that way.

"Castiel?" asked a scared female voice.

Sitting up, Castiel took the phone away from his hand and looked at the caller ID. It was from his sister, Anna, and she sounded terrified.

"Anna? What's wrong?" asked Castiel, now much more awake than he'd been a few seconds ago.

"Castiel, I need your help. Please, come get me." said Anna, her voice small, like she was trying to not be heard.

"I will. Where are you?" he asked, already getting out of bed and  moving to get his shoes. He honestly didn't care if he went out in pajama pants and a t-shirt, not when it was for something this important.

"I'm at the bust stop on 7th. Just come get me." said Anna and Castiel could tell she was crying.

"I'm leaving right now. Just stay right there." said Castiel before hanging up and grabbing his car keys, jogging to his car.

It was about five minutes later that he arrived at the bus stop. He unlocked his passenger side door when he saw his sister come running up to his car. After the door was closed, he took off again, not knowing if anyone would come running for Anna. He sped all the way to his home, pushing the limits on traffic laws as he went. When he was finally back and the garage door closed behind him, he helped Anna out of the car and inside. He could see she was cold, only a threadbare nightgown on and a pair of socks. Soon, they were settled on the couch, Anna wrapped in a blanket and hot cocoa in her hands. It would help warm her up and he knew how much Anna loved chocolate.

They sat in silence for a while before Anna told him what had happened. The talking went on for a long time and it seemed like only minutes passed before he could see the sun rising out of the corner of his eye. He got her dressed in some of Sharon's old clothes, him not having the heart to throw them out so they'd stayed in the dresser where they'd been before. After that, they got in his car again, the mood more somber than anything. The radio was turned off as he started to drive to the clinic.

_Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes_

  
_Like they have any right at all to criticize,_

  
_Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason_

Castiel parked in front of the clinic and walked inside with his sister. It was a small clinic, not anything big or fancy. As they walked inside, the people already there turned to look at them. Their stares seemed so judgmental, like they knew exactly what was going on, exactly why they were there. A burst of anger took hold of him but he forced it down and signed in before taking a seat with his sister, holding her hand and keeping a neutral expression on his face.

_'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable_

  
_And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table_

  
_No one can find the rewind button, girl._

  
_So cradle your head in your hands_

  
_And breathe... just breathe,_

  
_Oh breathe, just breathe_

After it was all done, he sat in the car with her for a while, knowing she needed some time to process things. He didn't push her, didn't tell her they needed to hurry up because his boss was probably mad that he was missing work or that he was feeling very sleep deprived at the moment. None of that came out because he knew his sister needed the silence right now so she could stay in her head a little bit longer.

_May he turned 21 on the base at Fort Bliss_

  
_"Just a day" he said down to the flask in his fist,_

  
_"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year."_

Dean's 21st birthday, the one most people celebrated a little too much, went by without much fanfare. He was on a military base on deployment and he probably hadn't been fully sober since October of last year. October was when everything had come crashing down around him. His brother, Sam, who had been only 16 at the time, not even out of high school had died in October the year before. Sam had been on the fast track to college and a great career as a lawyer and had college offers piling up before him. Everything had been going amazingly until the girl who had single handedly destroyed it came into his little brothers life.

Her name was Ruby and she had long blond hair and a perpetual smirk on her face. She'd pulled Sam in like a moth to a flame, no effort required. Dean had seen that Ruby was bad news and had told his brother the same thing. Sam hadn't listened to him, though. He'd insisted that he could take care of himself and that he didn't need his big brothers help anymore. Dean had watched as Ruby destroyed his brother, introducing him to drugs. Sam's grades had plummeted, college offers dwindled away, and he'd lost his brother completely. He hadn't seen his brother for the six months before his death, not his brother that wasn't clouded by drugs.

Sam had died of an overdose on October 22nd, him having put too much into the needle. Dean had been the one to discover his body. He'd just gotten off work at the mechanics and came in, ready for a meal of last nights leftovers. He'd yelled out to Sam as usual, expecting to hear his brothers usual reply of 'hey Dean' before things went silent again. Even in Sam's drug addled state, he still replied when Dean called out for him. He had been protective of Sam ever since he was four and their house had burned down, his mother having passed away in it. He remembered her getting Sam and passing the baby to Dean, pushing him out of the way of a falling beam. He still could hear her yelling at him to take his brother and get out of the house.

Sam had grown up with Dean being overprotective and thought of it as normal. He'd never met their mom but when he found out how she'd died, he could understand why Dean acted the way he did. So, even fucked up, he would respond to Dean's call to him to let him know he was still there. When Dean didn't hear a response, his stomach had dropped. Sam always responded and if he wasn't going to be home, he would have told Dean when he was leaving, when he'd be back, and where he was going. 

Dropping everything, Dean had run up the stairs to his brothers room and tried the door knob. It was locked and he pounded his fist against it, calling out his brothers name, asking if he was in there. Panic had been clear in his voice, his eyes wide and he'd been slightly shaking. After hearing no response from inside the room, he rammed himself against the door until it broke and fell forward. Coughing, he waved away the dust cloud of wood shavings and stepped in, his work boots making imprints against the white wood. On the bed, he saw his brother unconscious with a syringe in his hand and a small plastic baggy by his head.

He'd made it over to the bed in two strides and lifted his brother up by his shoulders. He watched as Sam's head lolled to the side, far too limp even for him to be sleeping.

"Sam? Sammy?" said Dean, tears pricking his eyes and his voice cracking.

He'd laid his brother on the floor and put his ear to his chest, hoping to find a heart beat. He didn't hear anything but he knew CPR so there was still some hope in him. Getting his cellphone out of his pocket, he dialed 911 and put the phone between his cheek and shoulder before proceeding to pump Sam's chest. The wait for the ambulance seemed endless, the dispatcher trying to get him to stay calm and him cutting the conversation off every so often to breathe into his brothers mouth before starting compression's again. The police that arrived had to physically restrain Dean so that he wouldn't interfere with the paramedics. He'd watched Sam's limp body rolled into the ambulance before people hopped in, saying he possibly had a chance because of Dean's CPR.

That had lit a glimmer of hope in him and he'd driven to the hospital as fast as he could, one of the police officers giving him an escort with his cruiser. He'd waited in the ER, bouncing his leg and having his hands clasped tightly together the whole time. His Dad had showed up a little while after Dean did, looking crumpled. His heart had jumped when he'd seen a doctor walking towards him but his small glimmer of hope was extinguished once he saw the expression on the doctors face.

He'd lost it then, screaming and cursing and throwing things around. Security had to be called to restrain him until he could calm down enough to not be a danger to himself or others. The weeks following Sam's death had been a blur, a mess of vigils and a memorial at his school and the funeral. It had all sort of bled together in his mind, no two events able to be picked out clearly. The size of the funeral had bugged him but not because it was crowded. It bugged him because he saw people there who used to make fun of his brother and others who hadn't even known him but had this look of sorrow on their faces.

When he'd seen Ruby at the funeral, he'd yelled at her to get out, that she had no right being there. He'd yelled that she was the one that killed Sam because she introduced him to drugs, yelled that he was being buried at 16 because she was a selfish bitch. His dad had to come over and pull him away before he did something really bad like beat the shit out of her. That's what Dean had wanted to do, he'd wanted to beat the shit out of her, put her in the ground like she'd put his brother in it.

After the funeral, he'd known he needed to get out, that he couldn't be in that house or that town even. He'd enlisted in the military and ended up in the army. He'd worked through boot camp with a single minded determination. He'd put all his pain and anger into the program and had risen to the top of his rank. Shortly after boot camp, he'd been deployed and he went on back to back tours, not wanting a moment of rest. Rest meant time to think and thinking meant remembering the pain he was in.

This was the final deployment he'd been told he'd be able to do for about 6 months. He'd have to take a vacation after this, for his mental health they said. They didn't want what was seen out here to screw with him too much. If they only knew how screwed up in the head he already was.

That pattern went on for 14 years before he'd gotten an injury he couldn't bounce back from. He'd shattered his pelvis after he was hit with by some debris from an exploding tank. It had taken multiple surgeries and immense physical therapy before he could walk again. He couldn't exercise anymore, at least not strenuously. If he did, that would cause him pain. Going through metal detectors was a pain in the ass since he always set them off and then had to explain that his pelvis was filled with bolts and screws and metal plates.

The pain was ongoing and he had some pain killers he was on but he never abused them. He wasn't going to become addicted to drugs and fall down the same path that had taken Sammy.

  _Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while,_

  
_But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles,_

  
_Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it._

After the injury, he'd known he'd be in the states permanently but he still couldn't get himself to go back to Lawrence. So, instead, he'd gone to Sioux Falls, North Dakota where a friend of the family named Bobby Singer lived. Bobby owned a scrap yard and also made a living repairing cars or fixing up ones he had on the lot and selling them back to people. He'd taken Dean in with open arms and given him a place to stay and a job so that he could earn some money for himself. Dean had been silent for the most part for the first few months and Bobby hadn't pushed him to talk. He'd been patient and waited him out, knowing Dean would talk when he was ready.

Speech had come back to him slowly, his conversations lasting longer and longer. It was almost October again, nearing the anniversary of Sam's death. Every year when this day pulled around, he'd shut himself in some room and drink until he passed out and then dealt with the hangover the next day. On the days leading up to that anniversary he would spend nights drinking at a bar or something close. This time around, he found himself at the Roadhouse sucking down whiskey shots until the owner, Ellen, came over and cut him off.

She was a gruff sort of woman, no nonsense and tough as nails. She'd asked what had him drinking to the point where he was sure to screw with his liver. Since he was incredibly drunk at that point, he'd told her. He'd spilled all that had happened from Sam's death right up to what had him living in Sioux Falls now. Throughout the conversation, she'd had him drink water, saying it would help him some. Once he said he was living at Bobby's for now, she said she'd drive him back there. She told him she was a good friend of Bobby's and that he must be important to him if Bobby was allowing him to live with him.

As the anniversary of Sam's death had loomed closer and closer, Bobby and Ellen had teamed up together to lift his spirits so he wouldn't spend the night passed out in his own vomit. He'd gotten a bacon cheeseburger and homemade apple pie, new music for the impala as well as things to keep her in shape. On the day in question, he'd been about to start drinking when Bobby had forced him out of the house and Ellen's daughter, Jo, had dragged him to the Roadhouse so they could make sure he stayed sober. Jo had kept him entertained and even managed to pull a smile or two out of him. The way her face had lit up whenever he'd let out one of his small smiles almost made him want to laugh.

_Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_

  
_And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table._

  
_No one can find the rewind button, boys,_

  
_So cradle your head in your hands,_

  
_And breathe... just breathe,_

  
_Oh breathe, just breathe_

Castiel had to attend the funeral for another person he loved. He'd had to arrange it and make sure everything was cohesive. His mother was too much of a wreck to do it and his father spent all his time comforting his mother to be much help at all. For weeks, you couldn't be around her without her wailing about Anna or telling a story about her or her crying over old photo albums of pictures of his sister as a kid.

Anna had died from putting a single bullet in her head. All the events that had led up to the visit to the clinic had weighed on her, suffocated her, and finally killed her. He remembered the last time he spoke to her, an hour or so before she died. She'd called him to see how he was doing and how his day was going. He remembered thinking her voice sounded awfully calm for how bad her mental health had been lately. They'd talked, though, and laughed and she'd said she loved him at the end of it. He'd returned the sentiment and hung up the phone, a smile on his face as he thought that his sister was finally taking a turn in the right direction.

An hour or so later, he was made aware that his worst fear had come true. Anna had crumbled under everything and had killed herself. She'd put a gun in her mouth and blew the back of her head out. She'd done it in her room and the walls were splattered with blood and brain matter. At least, that's what he had been told. He hadn't seen the actual scene for himself, not that he wanted to. He probably couldn't look at it for more than a second without having to double over and vomit up the contents of his stomach and more.

After the funeral, he'd made some pretty rash decisions. He'd quit his job and sold his house and emptied his bank accounts to go on an extended road trip. He had no real direction, just knew he needed to go and be anywhere that wasn't the place all his pain seemed to be centered in. It was just entering December and he was somewhere in North Dakota, spending a night or two at the motel in town. It was a small town but not too small. There was a decent amount of people but not too much for it to be smothering.

After settling at the motel, he'd pulled a jacket, gloves, and a hat on before walking out. His hand were stuffed in his pockets as he walked, ignoring the stiffness in his knees that was brought on by the cold weather. Snow crunched under his feet and he kept on in an aimless direction, eventually settling on following a walking trail that was lit up by lights that appeared about every 20 feet or so. Some time passed before he came to a bridge that was over a rushing river. The water was moving fast, too fast for it to freeze over though it was certainly cold enough to.

Looking over the railing of the bridge, he stared down at the rushing water and wondered how quickly that could kill him. Suicide didn't seem like such a bad idea right now. His wife was dead and his sister was also dead. The two people he'd cared about most in the world were gone and he was left with no one. And, yes, he'd loved his parents but they'd never been particularly close and things were just odd with his brother. He'd always looked up to his older sister even though their age difference was only about 2 years, not enough to make much of a difference as far as life experience went.

Without thinking about it much, he gripped the rail and stepped up on one of the planks running along the bridge that made it more sturdy. He swung his legs over, one by one and sat on the snow covered hand rail, some of it melting against his body heat. More time passed as he looked down at the water before he straightened up, gripping the rail with his hands still to keep himself steady. Just before he was about to let go and jump in, a voice called out to him, telling him to stop.

_There's a light at each end of this tunnel,_

  
_You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out_

  
_And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again_

  
_If you'd only try turning around._

Dean had decided to take a late night walk. He was restless, something that had developed ever since Ellen had gotten him to quit drinking. He was almost 2 months sober now. He'd been developing new coping skills and going to AA meetings, Ellen acting as his sponsor. He'd also started seeing a counselor, something Bobby and Ellen both chipped in to get him. The first few meetings he had with the woman, Dr. Braedon, he'd been thinking the whole thing was stupid. He was the type of person who laughed when anyone suggested therapy, saying it was a load of bull and not to waste your money on it.

Dr. Braedon had cracked through his macho facade and picked him apart before putting the pieces together again. Now, while he wouldn't openly admit it, he was a believer in therapy. It had taken quite a few sessions and him storming out on some of them before she'd started to make headway. Once she'd been able to get that first nudge in, there had been no stopping that woman. She gave him exercises to do every week. Whenever she gave him one, he'd roll his eyes and play it off but he always did them, even if some took multiple tries before he could pull through them completely.

The walk had started out normal enough, him bundled up and listening to rock music on what was considered an ancient ipod. The only reason he'd gotten it was so that he could listen to music while walking. A walkman wasn't ideal for that unless you enjoyed the CD skipping every time you put your foot on the ground too forcefully. Overall, it had been peaceful as he walked, seeing everything covered in white and his breath coming out in foggy puffs before him.

He was starting to cross the bridge that was over the rushing river when he saw a man who looked like he was about to jump. Eyes wide, he ripped his earbuds out and ran towards him, shouting for him to stop. The man paused and looked back at him, visibly startled. Dean had gotten to the man and pulled him over the bridge, them both ending up on their backs in the snow. His hips ached from the strain pulling him over had caused but he didn't regret it, not when this man had been about to commit suicide.

Turning his head to the side, he looked at the person he just saved and saw wide blue eyes staring back at him. There was a 5 o'clock shadow on his face and he had high cheekbones and messy brown hair peaking out from beneath his hat. There were slight bags under his eyes, telling of multiple nights without enough rest.

Not knowing what exactly to say, he laid there staring at him and huffing air in and out, his chest heaving slightly as he tried to get his bearings back.

_But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_

  
_And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table_

  
_No one can find the rewind button now_

  
_Sing it if you understand._

Castiel stared as a man came running full speed towards him. Before he could really react, arms were being wrapped around his torso and he was pulled back over the railing. The man hauling him over seemed to stumble a bit and they both ended up on their backs in the snow. His eyes were wide as he stared up but didn't really see anything. He'd been prepared to jump, prepared to end it all and then that man had showed up out of nowhere.

A shift in the snow was heard and he turned his face towards it, seeing who his savior was. The man had sort of brownish blond hair and light stubble across his face. His eyes were a bright green and his face was dusted in freckles, his nose slightly crooked and his mouth looked like what you would normally only see in drawings.

So, for now at least, he was still alive and he didn't know whether to be happy or sad about that fact. Either way, he knew a conversation would be following this. The other man ended up starting it.

"The fuck man?"

_And breathe, just breathe_

  
_woah breathe, just breathe,_

  
_Oh breathe, just breathe,_

  
_Oh breathe, just breathe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from the song Breathe by Anna Nalick.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Dean was staring at the man next to him, eyes wide and breath fogging out in front of him. He could already feel the snow soaking into his jeans but couldn't quite remember how his legs worked. He'd just stopped someone from committing suicide, something he himself had struggled with for a while. It felt weird to be on the other end of it, be the one who was offering the help instead of receiving it. He wasn't going to go into one of those speeches about how life had so much to offer and all that crap. He of all people knew how horrible and bleak it could get and a pep talk wasn't really something he was any good at.

After a while, though, he sat up and got to his feet before bending over and offering a hand. He watched as the other guy just stared at it for a bit before grabbing it and using it to pull himself up. Now, standing face to face, he could see that the man he'd just saved was only a little shorter than him and probably had around the same build. He'd just pulled a man that was almost his size over a bridge even with his pelvis filled with screws. It had hurt like hell but he did it.

Looking down at his pants, he dusted some stray snow from them and looked over at the man. Partly to make sure he was okay and partly to make sure he didn't try and hop over the railing again. Dean did not feel like having to either haul him over another time or to have to dive into the water after him.

"Hey, man, there's a diner up the road. Why don't you and I go get some coffee and talk this out?" said Dean, approaching the situation like he was dealing with a wild animal. The guy swallowed before nodding in apparent agreement. "Yes, coffee sounds good." he said, giving Dean a bit of a hesitant look. "Good. Follow me." said Dean, gesturing at the man before setting down the path again. It was him hearing the crunch of snow only a few steps behind him that let him know the man had decided to follow.

Castiel followed the man who'd just saved him down the path that led out of the park. The most prominent sound between them was deep breathing and the crunch of snow under their heavy boots. He kept his eyes cast down, feeling a little ashamed at what had just happened. Once again, he'd dragged someone else into his shit. On some level he knew the guilt was unnecessary but it still weighed on him nonetheless. Feeling guilty for everything seemed to be an automatic setting for him now.

Eventually, the park gave way to the town he'd driven into. Most of the shops were closed by now but he could see a gas station open as well as a 24/7 diner. He assumed that was where they were going, that being one of the few places still lit up. Once they entered, he shivered a bit at the burst of warmth that hit him. He pulled his hat and gloves off first before shucking off his heavy jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack where others were crammed on as well. A waitress came up and greeted the man who'd saved him, calling him Dean, and saying she could show them right to a table. There were a few other patrons in the diner at this time, most of them looking like they'd just gotten off working long shifts at some labor intensive job.

Dean slid into the seat the waitress, Jessica, led them to. She was a sweet girl with curly blond hair and an infectious smile. She was the kind of girl Sam would have gone for. The first few times he'd made late night trips to the diner, he'd been very gruff with her and borderline rude for this very reason. After a while, though, he'd softened up, knowing she wasn't someone he was actually mad at. Once his attitude shifted, she'd warmed up as well and now greeted him when he came in and knew what he liked to order. In exchange, he gave her a good tip when he could.

"I'll take a coffee, black." said Dean, looking over at Jessica and giving her a quick smile before looking back over at his companion. "I'll have the same." said Castiel, looking down at his hands in his lap and fiddling with his fingers. "Sure thing. I'll have that right out for you." said Jessica, giving them both a smile before walking to the line and getting the coffee ready. Within five minutes, she was back at the table with the mugs and a fresh pot of coffee.

Castiel gave her a quick and slightly forced smile as she poured the coffee into his mug. The cheery waitress soon disappeared and Castiel returned to staring at his hands. He didn't know how to start a conversation like this. He'd hardly talked about his huge emotional baggage with anyone, not wanting to burden them with what plagued his mind. If it was too much for him to carry then it would certainly be unfair to share that with anyone else.

"So, what's your name?" said Dean, sitting back in his seat as he waited for the coffee to cool slightly so it wouldn't burn his tongue when he took a sip. Castiel looked up and blinked a bit before finding his voice again. "Castiel." Dean made a face when he heard the name. "Castiel? That's kind of an odd name. You know what? I'll call you Cas for short." said Dean, giving a small but genuine smile. "It's better than my brothers nickname for me which was Cassie." said Castiel, picking up his mug and taking a small sip of the coffee. It burned his tongue, still too hot to drink, but he swallowed the pain down and drank more.

"Yeah, brothers can be awful sometimes." said Dean, staring down at the table with a sad look in his eyes. He was brought back to snippets of memories of horsing around with Sam, waging prank wars, and just generally getting on each others nerves because that's what brothers did. He pulled himself out of that train of thought, though, not wanting to have a breakdown in the middle of the diner and in front of a man who was also pretty messed up as well seeing as he'd tried to jump off a bridge. "Tell me, man. What's your story?"

Castiel sat in silence for a while longer, debating whether or not he was going to open that can of worms. He didn't feel like crying in public and in front of a stranger. On the other hand, though, he wanted to talk about what had happened. He wanted to get it off of his chest, shove it to someone else so he didn't have to carry it on his own this whole time. All through his internal battle, he noted that the other man, Dean, seemed to be very patient and willing to wait him out.

"My wife died in a car crash five years ago. It was my fault. I insisted on driving on icy roads and I got her killed." said Castiel before quickly taking a long sip of coffee to occupy himself with. "I'm sorry for your loss." said Dean simply. He knew there had to be more than that to this story but he wasn't going to push too much. He certainly hadn't liked people pushing him to spill his own guts to them just so they could get their curiosity sated. "Thank you. I fell apart without her. Recently, my sister, Ana, died as well. She put a bullet in her head." said Castiel, his voice catching slightly. He swallowed and quickly wiped at his eyes, trying to drive away any stray tears before they could start falling down his face. "After Ana died...I dropped everything and started an extended road trip to find myself, I guess. This town is my latest stop."

"I'm not from around here either. I live with a friend of mine, he's helping me get back on my feet." said Dean, saying just enough to let the other man know that he had his own cross to bear. "What...what happened to you?" asked Castiel hesitantly, eyes darting up to look at Dean before focusing on his coffee again. "My brother died of a drug overdose. He was 16. After that, everything sort of went to shit for me. I enlisted in the army and stayed there for 14 years before an injury caused me to have to be discharged." said Dean, his words coming out slow.

The only person he'd probably talked about his fucked up mess of a life in depth with was Dr. Braedon. Once he'd decided he could trust her, everything had come pouring out in one huge wave. He hadn't been able to stop talking until he said everything. By that time, his head had been in his hands and he'd been crying. It had probably been years since he'd cried that hard and, once he'd calmed down, he'd felt better. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off of his chest now that he'd told someone about all that had happened.

"I'm guessing jumping off a bridge must have been a split second decision. I've been there, man. I kind of lost count of how many times I tried to end it. I guess I just always lost my nerve at the last moment to go through with it." said Dean, licking his lips and looking at the person in front of him. "If you hadn't come along when you did, I would have let go of the bridge. I still feel like going back and jumping off of it." said Castiel, his voice a low grumble before he started to chew on the inside of his cheek.

"I feel like that as well some days. I'll be the last person to spew some crap about how you have so much to live for and that life is so great. I know it can be shit and most of the time it is. What I've learned very recently, though, is that it's important to wade through all the shit to get to the good times in your life. Some people that care about me are helping me to see that now. It's not always easy, most of the time it's the hardest thing I have to do, but the good times, when they come, are really worth being there to see." said Dean, his hands now resting on the table as he tried to make eye contact with Castiel.

"Yeah, well, I guess it's just been so long since I had a good time that I got tired of waiting." said Castiel, meeting Dean's gaze for a few seconds before flicking away.

"I went through that for 14 years so, believe me, I know." said Dean, a touch of sadness in his voice.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Castiel ended up staying at the diner and talking with Dean for a while longer. They each went through five cups of coffee but he was sure the last two had been switched to decaf by the sly look the waitress had given them. They moved on from talking about their troubles and woes to talking about more mundane things. Castiel told Dean about his former job as a florist. He'd squinted his eyes when he saw Dean chuckle, not understanding why that would be funny. Dean seemed to recover quickly, though, and told Castiel about his job restoring cars.

"So, Cas, where are you planning on going next after this?" asked Dean, folding his hands on the table.

Castiel paused at that question and looked down at his own hands, his eyebrows knitting together. To be honest, he had no real destination. He'd just been driving along highways and staying awake as long as he could safely drive. Then it was time to pull off at an exit and find the nearest motel. There had been times where he hadn't found one and had ended up sleeping in the back seat of his car.

"I don't know, actually. My driving has kind of been aimless." said Castiel, once again taking a sip of coffee so that he wouldn't have to say anything more.

Dean pursed his lips in thought and his eyebrows knitted together. He didn't feel right just letting this guy go off on his own again. The next time he tried to commit suicide, most likely, no one would be there to stop him. While he was okay for now, he knew the feelings would catch up again and things would fall apart. He'd gone through that cycle a lot, even ending up in the hospital a few times when he'd toed the line of death just a little too much.

"Hey, why don't you stay in town for a while? I have a friend that owns a Roadhouse and she's always looking for extra help. Maybe you could work there for a while and just try to settle a bit." said Dean, hoping the guy would say yes. He knew what it was like to struggle through this alone and he knew he'd be beating himself up over this if he just let the guy leave.

When Castiel heard the offer being made to him, his head snapped up to look at Dean. His first instinct told him that this guy was lying or that it was a trick. After all, who would want to help him? He was a stranger wandering the country with a couple of loose screws in his head. He knew that the man in front of him had his fair share of problems but why should that make him want to help him? He was a stranger to the man across from him and that man didn't owe him anything. He'd already done more than enough by pulling him over the bridge and then taking him to this diner for coffee and to talk.

Dean could see the blue eyes in front of him studying his face, trying to find any hint of insincerity. He just sat calmly and waited for him to make a decision. The distrust was obvious on his face and Dean wasn't going to pressure him. When he'd been pressured into doing things, all that had done was make him curl in deeper into himself while also simultaneously running further away from his problems. The silence between them stretched on for a while longer and it got to the point where Dean was sure the guy was going to say no and just walk out of the diner altogether.

"Okay." said Castiel after having mulled it over for a while. He'd been waiting for the man in front of him to say 'sike, I got ya' or something similar. After the first few months after his wife's death, people had been telling him to suck it up or to just focus on physical therapy. A friend had paid for him to go to grief counselling and he'd tried it for a few sessions before ultimately dropping out. The therapist had only been half listening to him and seemed to be more interested in her paycheck than actually helping him. Once the two year mark passed, people had learned to live with him being the way he was and adjusted to it. Help had stopped being offered and everyone just became complacent.

Dean let out a mental sigh of relief when he heard Castiel agree to stay in town for at least a little while. This town had helped Dean a lot so maybe it could help Cas out a lot as well. The people here were good and not too nosy. He'd even managed to find a few people that he got along with and could handle being around for extended periods of time. His social skills weren't the best but he was trying and others seemed to realize that as well. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was close to three in the morning. He hadn't even realized they'd been here that long. Now that he acknowledged it, he could feel drowsiness start to take over even with the coffee in his system.

Castiel saw Dean look down at his watch and he did the same. His eyes widened a bit when he saw how long they'd been in the diner talking. The time had just seemed to fly by, only really measured by new cups of coffee being poured for them thanks to their very attentive waitress.

"Hey, boys. Maybe you should head on home? I know you have work today Dean." said Jessica as she stopped in front of the table and rested her hands down on it.

Dean looked up at Jessica and nodded a bit. "Yeah, yeah. How much do I owe you?"

"I'd say about ten dollars for both of you seeing as how you guys sucked down so much coffee." said Jessica, turning a slight smirk on Dean.

Dean fished his wallet out of his pants and put a twenty down on the table. "There. Takes care of the bill and a tip. Happy?" He slid out of his booth and stretched out a bit, seeing her scoop up the money and tuck it into the breast pocket of her dress.

"Very." said Jessica before gathering the two coffee cups and carrying them back to the kitchen.

A small smile had come to Castiel's face as he watched the interaction between the two. It seemed easy and laid back, like it happened all the time. But, given the fact that she knew him by name, he was sure it did happen all the time. After all, in a small town there usually wasn't a huge selection of restaurants you could go to for a meal out. Walking back to the coat rack, he pulled his coat on before donning his gloves and hat. He was sure he could find his way back to the motel with not too much trouble. The blinking neon sign would likely guide him most of the way.


	4. Chapter 4

 

The next day, Castiel dressed in a button down and jeans before he got directions to the roadhouse. He was careful about driving on the roads even more so than usual. He got a few people honking at him but he didn't care. Better to be slow than to end up battering his body even more. He ended up taking a few wrong turns before finally getting to where he wanted to go. It was a big wooden building seemingly removed from everything. Still, despite the remote location, it seemed to have a steady flow of customers even for this time of morning.

He parked in a space and shut the engine off before walking inside. He knew his shirt was slightly wrinkled and his hair was standing up a bit. He never knew quite how to get his hair to lay flat and the shirt had been folded up in his suitcase for a while. He'd shaken it out a bit but that had only done so much. As he got inside, his eyes looked around the place, a bit wary. There were mostly bikers in the building and people who looked like they'd seen too much in life and needed to drown their sorrows all day everyday. A few pool tables were situated around and there were the usual things you would see in a bar. Up at the bar itself was a woman with brown hair who had her back turned to him.

He stepped closer to the bar and before he could even get a word out of his mouth, the woman was speaking to him.

"You're Castiel, right? Dean told me you'd be coming in today. Said you were looking for a job." said the woman, still cleaning glasses and not bothering to look at him.

"Er...yes. I'm new here and need a bit of income." said Castiel, slightly unnerved about how good this woman's senses seemed to be.

"Well, you're in luck. I need help and Dean vouched for you. Just know you won't be sitting behind a desk or anything. It's all labor here for you until you get a liquor license." said the woman, setting the glass down and finally turning around to face him.

She had a weathered face and intense brown eyes, the kind that told you not to mess with her if you knew what was good for you. The way she carried herself had authority behind it, making you just want to automatically listen to her. It was obvious this was a take charge woman and Castiel found himself submitting to the domineering air she put out.

"I'm fine with that. I used to do landscaping on the side so manual labor isn't something that's foreign to me." said Castiel.

"Good. If you can start now the job is yours. First order of business will be taking this and getting all the bottles and cans off the floor." said the woman, handing him a trash bag.

Castiel nodded and took it but stopped before he went to do as she asked.

"Can I get your name?" he asked, straightening up a bit.

"Ellen. Now get to work, kid." said Ellen before going back to what she'd been doing prior to him interrupting her.

Over at the scrapyard, Dean was waist deep in an old car as he worked on it. His hands were covered in engine oil and his face had grease stains on it. He'd long ago discarded his shirt, it having been soaked through with sweat. Since he mainly worked alone in the scrapyard restoring the cars, it didn't matter if he went shirtless or not. No one was really around to see him. Bobby was usually inside dealing with the financing details of the business and seeing which places could deliver spare parts that would otherwise be thrown in the dump.

There had been another guy who'd worked as a mechanic for the scrap yard as well. Bobby had fired his sorry ass, though, when he found him taking more than his paychecks worth from the money he earned. The guy had been lucky to get out of the scrap yard without a bullet in him was the story he'd been told. Knowing how disagreeable Bobby could be at times, Dean didn't doubt his story in the least. He'd told Bobby that he didn't need a pay check since he just needed something to do and it was enough that Bobby was helping to pay for his counseling and letting him live in the house. Bobby had insisted, though, saying it was needed so Dean wasn't stuck with him forever.

The vast majority of the money he'd earned so far had gone in a savings account to accumulate for later. He didn't spend too much money, only keeping a bit of spare cash in his wallet for when he needed something. He didn't really use credit or debit cards, not seeing the point in having a piece of plastic that could get hacked and make you lose all your money. The only reason he even kept one in his wallet was to get money out of the atm when it was needed.

He was about to pry a rusty piece off when he heard the phone that was kept out there ring. He jerked up and ended up hitting his head against the hood of the car. Grumbling, he grabbed a rag and wiped his hands off, ignoring the throbbing in the bump that had likely formed along his temple. Walking over to the phone, he picked it up and repeated the same mantra he used every time someone called the shop.

"Singers Salvage Yard. How can I help you?" he said, keeping his voice at an even drawl. He didn't like doing the phones much, not really keen on talking with strangers. It was part of what he was paid to do, though, so he sucked it up.

"Hey Dean. It's Ellen. Your friend showed up today about the job. He seems hard working if not a little bit off. No more off than how you were when you first showed up, though." said Ellen, leaning against the wall in the room she was in.

"Oh, thanks. That makes me feel so good about myself." said Dean, sarcasm dripping off of his words.

"Don't get pissy with me, boy. I'm funding half of that counseling that's straightened your head out." said Ellen, voice becoming stern.

"Yes ma'am." said Dean.

"He seems to have a bit of a limp and he's rubbing his knees every so often. Any idea why that is?" asked Ellen.

"He was in a car crash five years ago. It blew out his knee caps and broke his legs. There are screws in his bones and his knees are kind of bad." said Dean, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he ran his hands under the sink to get some more of the oil off.

"If he has leg problems, why in the world would you send him to a job like this? You know it requires a lot of standing." said Ellen, her tone bordering on annoyed now.

"Because I know that you're the only person who'll hire someone based on my word alone. He's really down on his luck Ellen and needs some help getting back on his feet. The dude was ready to jump off a bridge last night when I found him. Just give him a chance. I have a good feeling about him." said Dean, hoping to convince Ellen to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, kid. I'll give him a shot. If it proves too much for him, though, I can't keep him on. I can't have someone who needs to take frequent breaks." said Ellen with a hint of resignation in her voice.

"Thanks Ellen. You're the best. I'll make it up to you. How does a free oil change in your car sound?" said Dean, hoping to appease her.

"Put air in my tires and do the same for Jo and you have a deal." said Ellen, her voice now bordering on smug.

"Now that's just extortion but fine, you have a deal." Dean rolled his eyes a bit before saying his goodbyes and hanging the phone up again.

This was one of the points where he found himself feeling that he had a real family again. A new one that was sown together in a weird way but it worked all the same.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Castiel finished getting all of the bottles and cans off the floor and handed the bag off to a pretty younger blond woman who had the same eyes as Ellen. He figured this girl was her daughter. Next, he was handed cleaning supplies and told to wipe down all the tables since they probably had grime on them. As he did the tasks assigned to him, he could feel his legs, his knees mostly, protesting to standing up for long periods of time. He ignored it and worked through the discomfort, only stopping to rub his knees every once in a while when it got particularly bad. He needed money since his savings would eventually run out if he didn't earn something.

The rest of the day was spent in much the same way. He was given simple tasks to do and did them as best he could. Through all of it, he could feel Ellen watching him like a hawk. He suspected it was because she had noticed his limp and how he had to stop and rub his knees. In the back of his mind he was hoping she didn't let him go on the first day just because of an observation. He was trying his best to work through what bordered on pain because he wanted this to go well. Nothing in his life had seemed to go right the past 5 years and if this was a new start for him, he didn't want to botch it right out of the gate.

He could see it getting later and later but he wasn't about to ask for a break or to go home. Ellen had given him a lunch break at around 1 and he wasn't going to ask for anything more. Somewhere around 5, he heard her call him over and he stepped away from the mop that he was using to clean up a stain on the floor. Leaning it against the wall, he walked over to her and sat on a stool when she pointed to it.

"So, kid, I can see that you are hard working. You sure you can do this job though? I mean, it's obvious you have bad knees." said Ellen, her mouth turning down in a slight frown.

Castiel blinked at her a few times before finding the ability to speak again. "Yes, I can do the job. I have a bit of trouble but it's not entirely impossible for me to work." He hoped his words worked on her because he didn't want to fuck up another thing before he'd even really begun it.

"Okay, kid. I'll take a chance on you. If things get too hard, though, just let me know." said Ellen, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. A part of her tough exterior broke off for a few seconds before it was quickly slid back in place. "Now get out of here and get some rest."

Castiel nodded to Ellen and walked out of the Roadhouse, his knees protesting a bit but he ignored them. It was a relief to sit down in his car and to be able to sink into the seats. His legs were very grateful for having the weight taken off of them and he just enjoyed that feeling for a bit until he finally started the car. He pulled out of his space and got on the road, flicking the headlights on so he could see what he was doing. Driving with snow and possibly ice on the road gave him a lot of anxiety still. He did it because he had to but it felt like someone was reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart the entire time.

Dean finally finished replacing all the parts in the hood. What would come next would be replacing the outside parts of the car that were too eaten away by rust to be used anymore. Looking outside, he saw the sun had gone down so he washed his hands off again and pulled on a shirt. When he stepped outside, a sharp wind went right through him and the snow crunched beneath his boots as he made his way to Bobby's house. Before he'd even gotten past the entryway, though, Bobby was calling for him to make a stop in town. He was yelling about needing more beer since they were nearly out.

Not even bothering to argue this time, Dean just said okay and trudged back to his car. He could feel a stiffness set in his hips and he rubbed at them absently. He'd spent most of the day bent over but was used to the dull pain that brought him now. It wasn't too high stress so he wasn't worried about being able to take it. It would just mean he'd have to lay down with a heating pad before he went to bed if he wanted to wake up pain free the next morning.

Climbing into the impala, he started the car and heard his rock music pick back up from where it had left off. The sound was static filled, mostly from the tapes being old and overplayed. He still didn't want to let go of them, though. They held a lot of memories and he intended to play them until they would be unbearable to listen to. The heater in the car turned on and he heard the distant clanging of legos. He and Sam had forced those into the heating vent when they were younger. Their Dad had been mildly mad at them and said he was going to get them out but never got around to it. In fact, he seemed to smile whenever he put the heat on and heard the small clanging of the plastic toys.

When Dean had inherited the car, he hadn't bothered getting them out either. They were a small reminder of his brother, one that wasn't etched in pain. Another reminder was the toy soldier jammed in the ash tray in the back seat. His brother had insisted that was where the soldier needed to sit to be secure in the car. Once it was in there, though, it didn't want to come out. Again, their Dad had been slightly mad but never took it out and seemed to get a small smile on his face whenever he saw it.

Under the upholstery was two sets of initials carved in. He and Sam had done that years ago as well and their Dad had never discovered it. They'd etched those in there to stake their own claim on the car. While their Dad drove it, they wanted a little something to say that the car belonged to everyone in the family and not just him. And, in a way, it had.

He was always careful on the slick roads with the impala, knowing she didn't have the best breaking power. One downside to driving a classic car was that it wasn't as safe as the ones on the market today. The seat belts only went over his lap so if he braked particularly hard, he'd sometimes hit the steering wheel and he'd be yanked at his hips. That usually left bruises on him and sent a deep throbbing pain into his bones that took a while to fade away.

Pulling up to the convenience store, he parked next to a God awful car. It was a continental and honestly looked like something a pimp would drive. Shaking his head, he took the keys out and strolled inside, waving hello to the cashier there. His full name was Samandriel but Dean mostly called him Alfie. He couldn't bring himself to shorten the name to Sam and, the first time he'd met him, he'd been wearing the wrong name tag by mistake. So the name Alfie had just stuck since then.

Grabbing one of the small carts, he started to push it around towards the liquor section first. While he didn't drink anymore, Bobby certainly did. Dean had suggested he go into AA too and Bobby had told him to shut up if he still wanted to live there so Dean hadn't brought it up since. After that very short conversation, though, he did notice Bobby stop with the hard liquor and just stick to beer. A case went into the cart and he started walking around and grabbing other things. While Bobby hadn't said to get anything else, Dean knew they were running low on some things and if he didn't get them, they'd run out completely before it would be done.

Castiel parked his continental in the parking lot of the convenience store. He'd gotten the car after the crash five years ago and he rather liked it. His brother had poked fun at him for his choice, asking if he was a pimp or something. Castiel had just rolled his eyes and said he liked the car because it was unusual. It had character, as he'd put it, and his brother had cracked a few more jokes before letting the subject go.

Inside, he had a hand basket and was picking up a few things. Some basic food necessities and hygiene items were needed since it seemed like he'd be staying at the motel a bit longer than he'd originally planned. He was going to tell the receptionist there tomorrow morning that he was planning on staying longer so he didn't get kicked out of his room because someone else got assigned to it.

He passed by the alcohol section and paused briefly before walking past it. He'd had a brief stint where he'd nearly drank himself to death but had stopped after that. The pain of nearly poisoning his liver was enough to make himself not want to go back to that. Getting his mind off of that less than pleasurable memory, he scanned the aisle and walked forward, not paying attention to the man coming down the aisle with a shopping cart. Likewise, the man wasn't paying attention either, scanning the other side of the aisle and slowly walking along. It wasn't until they collided that they looked up at each other.

Castiel saw that it was Dean and stumbled back a few steps before looking down, embarrassed at having plowed into his cart.

"Oh, hiya Cas. So, how was your first day at the Roadhouse? Ellen called me earlier to let me know your progress." said Dean, a grin stretching itself across his face.

"Oh, it went well. I think she likes me a little bit. She's also a bit scary on her own." said Castiel, looking up at Dean and pulling a small smile of his own.

"You should see her when she's mad. She'll put the fear of God in you." said Dean, chuckling a bit.

Castiel shuddered a bit at that thought. "I don't quite think I want to invoke that type of wrath."

"Yeah, you don't. So, are you going to look for a more permanent place to stay than the motel?" asked Dean, leaning on his cart some more.

"I didn't really think about it. I don't think I'm ready to buy a house yet, though." said Castiel, shrugging a bit.

"Sheriff Mills helps run a small boarding house in town. It's a lot better than the motel and it's aimed at helping people get back on their feet. She's good people." said Dean.

Castiel nodded and looked down at the ground thoughtfully before glancing back up at Dean. "I'll keep that in mind. Maybe I'll check that out tomorrow."

"I just want to let you know, if you need to talk....I can lend an ear." said Dean. While he was usually the least conversational person you could meet, he found it easy to talk to Castiel. He had known the guy for two days but there was already an easiness going on between them. It was one of those things that felt like they had known each other a lot longer than they actually did. He'd never had that easy connection with anyone before and it was a pleasant change from having to force himself to be friendly to people.

Castiel nodded to Dean and gave him another small smile, something rare for him. "I'll keep that in mind."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about my long hiatus, I just got inspired for this story again.

 

Castiel got up bright and early the next morning, the alarm clock sitting on the table by his bed waking him up. One thing all motels seemed to have that was universal were alarm clocks. He got up and got himself dressed, going through the routine of shaving and brushing his teeth. He'd been using cheap razors for a while to save money. They never got the hair short enough for it to look like a clean shave but they did enough. Consequently he ended up looking like he had a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow but that didn't bother him. He left the room after locking it and got in his car, planning on stopping at the diner for a bowl of cereal before going on to the Roadhouse. Ellen had given him a schedule during his lunch break to tell him the times he would be needed. It looked like he'd mostly be doing early morning shifts to get everything ready for the day and would get off at around 2 or 3 depending on how busy it got. That seemed reasonable enough to him.

Dean woke up at dawn like he did everyday. It was a habit leftover from his days in the military. It was impossible for him to sleep past the sun rising and he didn't even try to fight it anymore. Sometimes on his days off he'd take a midday nap but that didn't happen too often. When it did, it usually took place in the easy chair in Bobby's living room in front of the t.v. Yawning, he stretched before getting up, scratching at his back as he wandered out of the room and down to the kitchen. He got the coffee pot set up and started making himself breakfast. Bobby usually stuck to microwaving something but Dean liked to actually cook his meals. It gave him a feeling of satisfaction to know that he was able to turn those basic ingredients into something great. Before Sam had died, he'd cooked all the time and had only started up again about two months ago. It was nice to be back in the kitchen where he could tune out for a bit and just focus on the task at hand.

Castiel arrived at the Roadhouse a little before 7, pulling up beside the only car that was there. After parking, he got out and tried the door and found it locked. He squinted as he looked in the window and knocked, hoping Ellen would hear him and let him in. It was cold outside and he pulled his jacket closer to him, watching as his breath puffed out in front of him like a cloud of smoke. The tapping of boots inside told him that Ellen was coming for the door and he was soon let into the warmth of the building. He gave her a smile of thanks before taking his hat off and ruffling his hair up a bit. "Good morning, Ellen." Ellen gave him an approving nod and locked the doors again. "You're here early. I like that." The keys got pocketed and she went towards the bar where a rag was discarded. "So, tell me, what did you do before coming here?" Castiel shrugged his coat off and folded it as his side as he walked over to stand by the bar. "Um...I was a florist." Ellen stopped in the middle of getting a stain off the wood and looked at him like she wasn't believing what she was hearing. "A florist? Really?" Castiel gave a sigh and nodded. "Yes. Everyone seems to find that very funny for some reason that I don't understand." Ellen chuckled and shook her head, her expression saying she was keeping a joke to herself. "What?" questioned Castiel, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Oh, nothing kid. You should start getting to work. Put your things up and then set up the tables and chairs."

Dean finished breakfast and was washing the dishes in the sink by the time that Bobby made his way into the kitchen. Dean had already set out his microwaveable breakfast sandwich out on a plate to warm up for when Bobby finally wandered in. "Put a new pot of coffee on." He got a grunt in response and he went back to washing the dishes, shoulders hunched as he tried to get a better look at what he was doing. Mornings here usually passed in silence since Bobby wasn't human until he'd had at least three cups of coffee and Dean wasn't much of a talker. When he was done with the dishes, he dried his hands off and walked upstairs to get ready for the day. It was his day off but he had to get dressed and ready to go even if he wasn't going anywhere. He felt incomplete if he didn't. Another thing he'd figured out was that if he kept a routine and didn't stray too far from it that it kept him more in balance. So, he did the same thing every morning the same way and it put him at ease. It was like having a constant. He couldn't control what the rest of the day would bring but he could control his morning routine. That reassured him and made him feel like everything was going to be okay. After he was done, he walked by the kitchen and poked his head in, seeing Bobby at the table with the newspaper, coffee, and his breakfast. "Hey, I'll be out in the yard working on the impala." Bobby lowered the newspaper enough so that he could look over it. "It's your day off, boy. Why are you still working on cars?" Dean gave him a wide grin in return. "Working on the impala doesn't feel like work. Anyways, she could use a bit of a tuneup. Call me if you need anything." And by 'call me' Dean meant holler for him at the top of your lungs while sticking your head out the back door.

Castiel finished setting up the tables and chairs, mostly ignoring the dull pain in his knees. It wasn't important right now. What was important was getting the job done. He was then directed in the back to start cleaning the dishes that had been missed last night. He was pretty sure missed meant that they just hadn't been properly cleaned. Humming to himself he cleaned the dishes, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up past his elbows. This all seemed to be basic work which he could handle pretty well. When he was done, he dried off the dishes and put them in the container before walking them out to Ellen who put them in their respective places. All in all, everything seemed to be working out just fine with her pointing out things for him to do and him completing the tasks. Ellen didn't seem like someone who wanted to make idle chit chat and Castiel was fine with that, him being more of a silent type as well. The rest of his shift passed by in this easy manner, people starting to trickle in around noon or so for a quick bite to eat as well as a drink on their lunch break. His shift ended at two and he waved goodbye to Ellen before walking out and getting in his car. He'd gotten directions to Sheriff Mills boarding house from here and was going to check it out since he didn't want to stay in the motel long term.

Dean spent the vast majority of his day working on the impala, sweat making his t-shirt stick to his back and motor oil staining his skin. He knew he'd need to take a shower after this or else the oil would really stick to his skin and it would take days to scrub it away. The phone ringing caught his attention and he reared up in surprise which caused his head to bang against the hood. Cursing under his breath, he rubbed at the bump forming with the heel of his hand before walking towards the phone. He grabbed a rag along the way and wiped his hands off as best he could before picking the phone up. "Singer's salvage yard. How may I help you?" When it turned out to be Jody on the other end and not some random customer, he relaxed and leaned against the work table. "Hey, Dean. How's it goin'?" asked Jody, sounding cheerful as always. "It's going alright. I'm pretty sure, though, that you didn't call just to ask about my day. What's up?" There was a pause on the other end and some shuffling, signaling that Jody was probably walking to another room. "I have a guy here who wants to rent a room. He says he knows you. Just wanted to make sure that's on the up and up since I've never seen him around here before." Dean was about to rub his hand down his face when he remembered that it was black now and he didn't want oil all over his face. "Yeah, I know Cas. He needs some help getting back on his feet. The guys been through a lot and I talked him into settling down a bit. Ellen gave him a job at the Roadhouse and I think everything's going to work out just fine." A short pause happened where Dean could only hear the crackle of static before Jody spoke up again. "Okay, Dean. Just wanted to make sure. We'll talk more later." Dean rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh. "If you want to know the guys backstory ask him yourself, okay? See you later." He put the phone down on the receiver and shook his head before going back to his car.

Castiel arrived at the boarding house after getting a little bit lost. It wasn't hidden or anything, he just wasn't familiar with the town. He parked alongside some other cars there and got out, locking the car up and trudging up the stairs. He saw a sign that said 'Open' hanging in the window so he walked in. A lady at the front desk was looking through some files and fixed her gaze at him since it was obvious he was new around here. "So, what can I do ya for?" Her voice was cheery and sounded very welcoming and it made him relax instantly. "Uh, yes. My name is Castiel, I was wondering about getting a room. Dean told me about this place, said you help people get back on their feet." He took his hat off and shed his coat as well, the building warm enough that he had started to sweat within just a few seconds of stepping inside. The woman behind the counter looked at him with a measure of doubt as she nodded her head. "Uh huh. Let me just make a quick phone call." she said before leaving the room. One thing Castiel was starting to understand about this town was that its residents were very close knit and that they also didn't take too kindly to strangers. Their manner wasn't hostile, it was just wary but given all the crime in the country he couldn't much blame them. A few minutes passed by before the woman came out again, her guard let down and looking ready to help him. "Dean tells me you got a job at the Roadhouse. I take it that you're planning on staying for a while then. Come on, I'll show you to a room. Rent isn't too much. It's $50 a week and we pay for water and electricity and you pay for your food and things like that. The rooms are big enough for a bed, a desk, and some other small things and there's a closet as well." Castiel nodded in understanding as he followed her down a hallway and was directed to an open room. "Your name will be posted on your door just so I can keep track of which rooms are rented out and which ones are vacant. As long as you keep up your room and pay your rent, we should get along just fine." Castiel gave her a small smile and looked in the room. Sure enough it was the size of a bedroom but he didn't need much more space than that. "I'm going to go back to the motel and check out and bring my things back here. I won't be too long. I can also give you money for the first months rent." 

Dean finished up with the impala a little after four, deciding to call it a day. He closed the hood and put all the tools back before trudging into the house and heading straight for the shower. When he came out, his hair was flopped against his head and he felt much better with the oil and sweat off of his body. There was still some gunk under his fingernails from some unknown source but he decided to just get to it later. He got back into a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and a flannel and walked back to his room planning to read for a bit. His books were falling apart at the spine and he knew he'd need to get new ones soon if he actually wanted to still be able to read what was on the pages. He laid back on the bed and cracked open a Vonnegut novel that he'd read a million times but still wanted to read again. About two chapters in his cellphone rang, refusing to be ignored from its resting place on the nightstand. Groaning, he dogeared his place and set the book down before flipping his phone open. The caller ID said Jody so he decided to put on a semi-pleasant attitude for her. "Hello?" There was some static on the other end making it clear that Jody was moving around, most likely in the kitchen from the sound of dishes clattering together. "Hey, Dean. Want to come over for a holiday dinner? Christmas is right around the corner you know. I invited Ellen and Jo and Cas. He seems alright and you approve so I'll give him a chance. You can ask Bobby if he wants to come over as well. I also made pie." The mention of pie was all Dean needed to hear for him to perk up and quickly agree.

Castiel had been in the middle of putting his things in his rented room when Jody came by. He opened the door for her, surprised to see her again so soon. That surprise only increased when she invited him to a big dinner she was having, wanting to welcome him to the town. He was sure she didn't do this for every new guest so it must have something to do with both Dean and Ellen seeming to have taken a liking to him. He eagerly agreed since he hadn't had a home cooked meal in a long time. Sharon had been the one between them to cook since Castiel could barely boil water without setting the smoke detector off. He'd been told the time and how to get to Jody's house and he nodded, already looking forward to the dinner. He'd been here only a short time and it seemed that for the first time in five years things were working out for him. He could very well be building a home here, maybe set up another flower shop.

Dean arrived a few minutes past seven, Bobby close behind him. He'd offered to give Bobby a ride but he'd declined, saying he didn't want to be stuck somewhere if Dean decided to run off. Personally, Dean thought he just wanted to be able to stay past the dinner so he could flirt with Jody. It was obvious Bobby had a crush on Jody, everyone knew it and he was sure even Jody herself knew it. Still, Bobby kept his mouth shut, too chicken shit to make a move. He parked on the side of the road and got out, locking the impala before walking up to the door. He rung the doorbell and he was soon let in the house and he smiled, greeting the ones who were already there. The smell of good food welcomed him and he took off his jacket, hanging it up where the others rested. Before he could get past the entryway, though, the doorbell rang again and he turned towards the door. "I'll get it." He went to the door and opened it, greeted by Castiel bundled up in his coat with that same hat on. "Hey, you made it. Come in." Looking past Castiel he saw a tan monstrosity parked behind his baby. "Cas...that god awful car...that's yours?" Castiel glanced behind him before looking back at Dean, his face falling. "What's wrong with my car?" The look he got from those blue eyes made him back pedal immediately, wanting to get that face as far away from Castiel's expression as possible. "Um...eye of the beholder. Come in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see I changed my writing style slightly. Before everything was in center face so when I converted it to it to left align it ended up looking a bit choppy.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Castiel made his way into the house and felt the welcome heat warm his face. He took off his coat and hat, hanging them up along with the others. He ruffled his hair a bit in an effort to get the static out before looking back at Dean again. He was met with a smile that put him at ease and he was led to where the others were. There were a few people he was introduced to that included the owner of a scrap yard named Bobby, a goofy artist named Garth, and a hunter with a heavy Louisiana accent named Benny. Glancing over at the table he saw that mismatched chairs were shoved along it to accommodate everyone and it reminded him of the family dinners he used to attend. Everyone would crowd around to the point where elbow room was non-existent but the food was good and they were happy so a few sore ribs could be ignored in the name of holiday spirit. "Hey, Cas. Glad you could make it." said Jody as she came out of the kitchen with another bowl of food to add to the already overflowing table. It looked like there wouldn't be enough room to eat but in his experience people always figured out a way to make it work. "I'm glad you invited me. It was very kind of you." said Castiel, giving her a small smile before looking down at his feet. "Well, sit. This is the last plate of food. I just need to get the drinks out and we will be good. Soda for you, Dean." said Jody, not even missing a beat as she saw Dean grabbing a wine bottle.

Dean sighed as Jody immediately reprimanded him for touching a wine bottle. "I was grabbing it for the others,  _mom._ " Jody gave him a level stare before nodding. "Uh huh. Set that on the table, young man. I'll handle the wine." Dean set the bottle down in the middle of the table and stepped back with his hands up. Between Ellen and Jody he sometimes felt like a child again. Grumbling, he sat down at one of the end seats and gestured for Castiel to sit by him. "If you get settled in enough you might gain two moms as well." said Dean as he leaned over so only Castiel would hear him. Castiel chuckled before leaning in to give his own reply. "Don't worry, my mother-in-law was worse. I can handle this." For some reason, Dean doesn't know why, he finds that very funny and he just starts chuckling to himself. He makes a fist over his mouth in an effort to get it to stop so it wouldn't draw the attention of the whole table and have them force what he was laughing at out of his mouth. He eventually got it under control with a cough but a smile was still left on his face and he could see one on Castiel's face when he looked out of the corner of his eye.

Castiel accepted everything with a smile and enthusiasm. The wine tasted amazing and he didn't know if that was because it wasn't bought from a corner store or just because he was drinking with others at a big dinner and the food was the best he'd had in a long time which he was sure to tell Jody. Conversation went smoothly even though most of it was centered on him, everyone wanting to know about his life and what had brought him to the town in the first place. When it had gotten to close to sticky subjects Dean had come to the rescue and steered them away, giving the others a look that said they needed to back off. Castiel was both aware of and extremely grateful for this intervention as it saved him from having to revisit a dark time in his life at a happy event. Two full plates of food later, his stomach was distended slightly and making his jeans uncomfortably tight and the fabric dug into his skin. Still, he didn't regret eating it all since he didn't know when he was going to get a meal like that again. 

Dean went through about three plates of food before his brain caught up to his stomach. He felt a bit too full but the food had been too good to stop eating after just one plate. He'd been sitting back in his chair and rubbing his stomach when Jody's voice telling him to help her with the dishes caught his attention. Sighing, he reluctantly got up from his comfortable position and started gathering dishes to bring to the kitchen that was an even bigger mess than the table. Ellen and Jo were already in there pitching in with dishes as well, them working on putting the leftover food in tupperware containers to store in the fridge. He was making his way towards the sink when he caught sight of a flash of dark hair walking by. "She rope you into dish duty as well?" Castiel furrowed his brow and tilted his head before shaking it. "No, it's just courteous to help clean when you've been served such a great meal." said Castiel before going to the sink and starting to wash off dishes. Dean mocked him behind his back before grabbing a dish towel and taking the spot beside him. "You wash, I'll dry." Castiel merely glanced to the side before looking down at the plate in his hands that he was scrubbing away at.

A light hum of noise that consisted of clanking dishes and soft voices took over as everyone tried to clean up as fast as they could. Every so often Dean would feel someone bump into him, a sorry muttered with him giving an 'it's okay' back before drying his dish again. Castiel had a smile on his face as he cleaned the dishes even though that seemed to be the most loathed chore. He'd slipped into a relaxed state with his shoulders down and his knees slightly bent while he looked down at the soapy water. "Here, Sharon. This one's slippery." he said without thinking when he handed a bowl to Dean. As soon as the words left his lips he froze, his fingers curling over the edge of the bowl and his teeth biting into his lower lip. His grip on the bowl didn't last, though, and it went crashing down to the floor and pieces scattered everywhere. All activity was brought to a stop as heads turned to him to see what had happened.

Dean had looked to the side in surprise when he'd heard Castiel call him Sharon. He was going to brush it off as a slip of the tongue and just take the bowl when he noticed the look on Castiel's face. It was one of frozen horror and heartbreak. He knew that face well, had worn that expression for years whenever he'd do something that would remind him of Sam. Before Dean could ask if Castiel was okay the bowl was falling to the floor and the guy looked like he was going to break. Dean put his hands up to show he didn't mean any harm and took a step towards Castiel in an attempt to help him, seeing that he'd retreated into his mind. That broke whatever spell had fallen over the guy, though, because he was then pushing people out of the way as he bolted for the door and then ran out into the snow, leaving behind his jacket and car keys. 

Castiel felt frozen, removed as he stood there. The sound of the bowl breaking was far away and he heard Dean's voice like he would through water. Things didn't come into focus again until Dean moved closer to him and caught his eye. Everything came rushing back, him begging her to let them go home, the crash, finding out she was dead, living without her....Five years had done nothing to dull the pain and this was just further proof. Knowing he needed to get out of there, he pushed people out of his way and ran out of the house and into the snow without any thought of getting his jacket or grabbing his car keys. He just needed to leave.

Dean started to run after Castiel but Benny got to him first and held him back. "Brother, we need to be smart about this. It's not gonna help if you go runnin' out there like a chicken with its head cut off." After some more struggling, Dean just sighed and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Fine. Let's split up. We need to find him quickly. He could...." Dean couldn't finish the sentence but everyone was able to fill in the blank. Only a few seconds passed before people were pulling their coats back on and going out to get in their cars. Dean saw Jody getting in her cop car as he got in the impala and he was glad everyone was taking this seriously, he didn't want Cas to die just when things were supposed to be getting better for him. Shaking his head, he started the impala and drove off to start looking. 

Castiel kept running long after his knees were screaming for rest and his lungs felt like they were going to burn through his chest. The only thing that made him finally stop was his legs giving out and leaving him collapsed in the middle of the road in the fetal position. Tears were rolling down his face and his body was numb from the cold. Even if he wasn't suffering from severe fatigue right now, though, he was lost. He'd run blindly from Jody's house and was in a place with no signs and where the road seemed to be just dirt under the snow. Distantly, he could hear the sound of a car coming and he wished it would run him over. That would make things so much easier on him. His wish wasn't granted when the car stopped in front of him and whoever was inside got out. Oh, well. Maybe they would still kill him.

Dean ended up taking the back roads since no one else wanted to look there. They all said they found it too hard to navigate and they were worried about getting lost themselves at night. Dean didn't fucking care, though. He was going to find Cas one way or another and if he had to wait till sunrise to find his way back then oh fucking well. After 3 hours of searching, though, he was starting to lose hope. No one had called him so he obviously wasn't found yet and Dean still had jack on his location. It was these thoughts that nearly made him miss the body laying in the middle of the road. His foot stomped the brake pedal and the impala skidded to a stop before he jumped out, hoping it was Cas. If not, he would just be taking this person to the hospital with a knot of anxiety in his stomach.

Castiel heard the footsteps of the stranger getting closer until warm hands were placed on him. Blinking, he glanced up and saw that the stranger was Dean. "Dean?" Dean rolled his eyes before nodding his head. "Of course it's me, you idiot. Come on, we need to get you warm." Castiel felt Dean first pulling him up to his feet before picking him up and Castiel grabbed at Dean's shoulder with his icy hand. "But...your hips..." Dean just shook his head. "Screw the hips." That was all that was said as Dean carried Castiel to the backseat of the impala and got in with him. His military survival training kicked in and he started removing their clothes, knowing skin to skin contact would help Castiel the most right now. "Wha- are you doin'?" mumbled Castiel as he saw Dean take his shirt off. "Saving your life." said Dean.

Dean got both of them undressed before pulling Cas down on top of him on the backseat. He put the fact that he had a naked man on top of him out of his mind in favor of focusing on the fact that he was saving someones life. The skin in contact with his was icy and the fact that nothing was happening downstairs only further enforced his heterosexuality. Soon, he felt Castiel start to shiver against him and he steadied him with his arms to make sure he didn't fall off.

"Why did you do that? You could have died." said Dean after a half hour of silence. "I...I p-p-panicked." said Castiel, his head settling against Dean's shoulder. "Sharon...was that the name of your wife?" asked Dean, his voice low in hopes that he wouldn't scare Castiel. "Yes. Sharon Marie Novak." said Castiel in a whisper. Dean nodded before deciding to wait out the rest of Castiel's return to a normal body temperature in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the long wait. It's been so long since I've had inspiration. I hope you enjoyed it, though!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I published the chapter a little too early and ended up extending it a bit so enjoy the surprise update.

 

Dean resisted the urge to fall asleep through the night, knowing he needed to be alert in case Castiel's condition took a turn for the worst. The shivering and teeth chattering kept up as he rubbed at Castiel's icy skin. It looked slightly blue from the little bit of light he was receiving through the car window which seemed so wrong given the previous tan that it had replaced. At first he could feel Castiel resisting the urge to grab onto him even though his body heat was inviting in apprehension. Eventually, though, all feelings were overruled and Dean strong limbs wrap around him and pull him close. One of his hands went up to Castiel's hair and he absently carded his fingers through it as the shivers vibrated through his own body and the leather upholstery started to stick to his back.

As the sun rose, it shined its light directly on Castiel's face and his eyes screwed shut in protest to the rude intrusion. Another disturbance was that his source of warmth was trying to move away from him. While he wasn't nearly as bad as last night, he was still a bit chilly and the instinct to cling to the heat source took hold in his mind immediately. "Cas... _Cas_...you have to let go. I need to drive you to the hospital." The voice sounded far away and meaningless so he ignored it, wanting to stay with the heat and sleep. 

A pinch in his side, however, was enough to draw him out of his little dreamland.

"Cas, I need to get you to the hospital. Let me get dressed and I'll get you a blanket from the trunk. Your clothes are mostly wet but I think your underwear may be fine." said Dean, back to gently nudging at Castiel after the harsh pinch.

"Wait...did we..." asked Castiel as he took in the fact that they were in Dean's car and their clothes were littered along the floor. Last night seemed foggy and he wanted to attribute that to having one too many glasses of wine and maybe making a few questionable decisions.

"No, Cas, we didn't. You had a panic attack and nearly killed yourself with hypothermia." grunted Dean as he struggled to pull his jeans on in the tight confines of the impala. Off to the side, Castiel nodded as he distantly remembered what happened. He'd had a flashback of Sharon and ran out the door and into the night. Dean had apparently come after him and saved his life again. 

"My apologies." said Castiel as he pulled his underwear on and checked to see if any of his other clothing was worth wearing. A t-shirt that had been under a sweater was still good so he pulled that on but everything else was still either damp or soaking wet.

"It's okay, Cas. We all fall down." said Dean before opening the car door and walking around to the front. The keys were taken from the ignition before the trunk was opened. You could hear some heavy things moved around before Dean popped back into the backseat and handed the blanket to Castiel. "Here, wrap up. I'm taking you to the hospital now to get checked out to make sure nothings wrong after last night."

Castiel accepted the blanket and wrapped it around himself, grateful to again have something that could keep him warm. The mention of going to the hospital set him on edge and he shook his head. "No, I don't want to go." He'd spent too much time at the hospital with doctors and physical therapists and regular therapists trying to fix him. He was done with hospitals, done with their bright lights and sterile smells, their insensitivity and medications. "Just take me to Jodie's boarding house. I'll take a hot shower and recover the rest of the way in my room."

"But, Cas, you were out in the snow and your skin was blue. You need to see a doctor." said Dean as he looked in the rear view mirror with pleading eyes. 

"No, I don't. Just take me to the fucking boarding house." growled Castiel, his eyes flashing in anger. His teeth were clenched together and grinding ever so slightly, his fingers claw like as they gripped the blanket.

Dean flinched slightly at the tone and just nodded. "Okay then." He put his seat belt on before turning the impala around to head out of the twisting back roads he'd gone into last night. With the sun to guide him, it didn't take long to make it out and back to town again. Whenever his eyes would flick up to the rear view mirror just to check on Cas, he would see him hunched over and looking out the window without really seeing anything there. 

Gravel crunched under the tires of the impala as Dean pulled up to the boarding house and he parked, looking into the rear view mirror again. "We're here." The huddled form in the blanket jumped before gathering some items and stepping out of the car. Silently, Dean watched as Castiel walked up to the house wrapped in the blanket with him as a bulging lump at his side. A bit of commotion started inside so he assumed Jody was there to act as Cas' welcoming committee. Frowning, Dean threw the impala into reverse sped out of there and towards the scrap yard. Now seemed like a good time to destroy something rather than create it.

So, when Dean got back to Bobby's scrapyard, that's exactly what he did. He took a crowbar before wading deep into the forest of rusted cars until he found one he deemed too far gone to be used for anything other than scrap metal. Wielding the crowbar over his head, he only hesitated a second before bringing it down harshly on the hood. The dent it made was satisfying so he brought the bar down again and again. By the time his muscles were screaming for him to stop he'd completely destroyed the hood and he was covered in sweat. The echo of the metal being hit was sounding off in his ears and, for a while, he just stood there, chest heaving with sweat making his t-shirt stick to his body. His eyes lost focus and it wasn't until he heard footsteps behind him that he came to again.

Quickly, he spun around with the crowbar lifted as his weapon, his body poised for attack. Bobby stopped and held his hands up, trying to get across that he wasn't a threat to Dean. A few seconds passed before Dean realized this and he slowly lowered the piece of metal down to his side. While glancing between Dean and the bar, Bobby stepped forward and grabbed it before dropping it on the ground. "What's this about boy?" Dean's stance went rigid and his jaw clenched as his brain went into shutdown mode. He didn't talk with Bobby, he worked on cars with Bobby and pretended that he was a normal man. Bobby kept that illusion up for him in their silent agreement.

"Nothing." said Dean out of habit. 

"It's obviously not nothing. You're out here pounding on one of the cars with a crowbar. That seems like something to me." said Bobby as he tried his best not to release an exasperated sigh.

"I said...it's nothing." said Dean, his voice now low and coming out deadly calm. When Dean got into some of his worst moods, he went past exploding and became calm. He slipped back into his military state of mind and that was when it was easiest to make him snap. He'd snapped here before and that had resulted in him going into a red rage he really didn't remember much of. Bobby had ended up locking him in the basement until he'd worn himself out. After that he'd slept for about 12 hours before going through an entire bottle of whiskey in one sitting on an empty stomach.

"Okay, boy. Don't forget you have your counseling thing tomorrow." said Bobby before finally turning around and making his way out of the maze of cars and back to his house again.

Back at the boarding house, Castiel had shrugged off all help from Jody after giving the simple answer that Dean had found him. She tried to ask him more questions but he ignored her, aware he was being rude but too pissed off to even care. The anger wasn't even specific, though. There wasn't one thing he could pinpoint it to. It was just there, burning in his chest and clawing away at his ribs. While he kept telling himself it was because Dean had tried to force him to go to the hospital he knew that wasn't really the reason. Whatever the reason, though, he was stuck with it as the feeling ate away at his organs like acid.

The water in his shower passed the feeling of hot and ventured into scalding but Castiel didn't care. He was feeling something and that was better than the cold numbness he'd been in for the past 12 hours or so. When he got out of the shower, his skin was raw and steam was actually rising off of it but, again, that was okay. He was feeling something even if that something came with nausea and feeling like he would pass out. 

Once he was back in his room, he fell down on the bed and just laid there, breathing hard and enjoying the cool feeling of the sheets against his hot skin. Soon, his eyes got heavy and he closed them and fell asleep, all thoughts of his job and responsibilities thrown away in favor of unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean was sat outside of Dr. Braedan's office a half hour before his appointment like usual. Another thing drilled into him was that to be early was to be on time and to be on time was to be late. His appointments were the first ones of the day so the waiting room was otherwise deserted and the lights dimmed. The solitude he found here was soothing and helped him to prepare for each session. Dr. Braedan wasn't scary or anything but she had a habit of digging deep into him and dragging things out that he'd rather keep hidden. She'd made him face a lot of the skeletons he'd been keeping in his closet over the years, so to speak. Each one was terrifying and he had a feeling that nothing would stop this woman.

His head was dipped down and resting against his hands when the lights flipped on, signaling that the doctor had arrived. She was usually there before anyone else, the others filing in soon after. Dean blinked a few times and looked over at the woman dressed smartly in a pant suit with tan skin and deep brown eyes. "Shall we?" she asked as she gestured to the door that led to her office. Dean gave her a silent nod before getting up and following her down the hallway and taking a seat in a chair once they were in her office.

The office itself was low key as far as decorations went and it put him at ease. Nothing in it really caught his eye so he was able to focus on the therapist more instead of letting his eyes wander. At first he'd hated this since he'd wanted to be able to look anywhere but her. Lately, though, he'd started to find a small bit of comfort in her understanding expression and dark brown eyes. In his younger days he'd be more focused on how attractive she was but now he was only focused on the fact that she had the ability to make him feel safe in her presence which was a very welcome feeling for someone in his position.

"So, Dean, did you complete the exercise from last week like I told you?" asked Dr. Braedan as she held up her clipboard where she would occasionally jot down notes every session.

"Yes, I did it." said Dean as he pulled out a small journal from his pocket and tossed it over to her. The exercise had been to get a small journal and every night before bed write something positive that had happened during that day. The day of the session he had called the exercise stupid, as he did with every exercise, but he had still done it dutifully and it was all dated for her to go over.

"Good. So, Dean, what's been going on this past week?" Dr. Braedan, adjusting her clipboard as she crossed her legs and fixed her stare on Dean's face.

Dean hesitated a few seconds before talking about Castiel. He started by telling her how he'd saved him from committing suicide at the bridge and then convincing him to stay. He talked about getting the guy a job at the Roadhouse and telling him about Jody's boardinghouse so he wouldn't be stuck living at the nasty motel until he found something more permanent. He told her about the holiday dinner and how things seemed to go smoothly until the wrong words were said and Castiel ran out into the snow. He told her how he saved him again from dying of hypothermia and then how Castiel had turned into a dick when the hospital was suggested. He also then told her how he'd gone into one of his rages by smashing up an old car and how he'd almost turned it on Bobby and how Bobby had been smart enough to just walk away from him. He then finished with how he felt like a bomb waiting to explode at times, like was a danger to those around him, that the wrong thing would set him off and he would hurt someone.

Dr. Braedan listened to him as he explained everything, not saying a word since she knew he just needed to talk. When he was done, she shifted in her seat and wrote a few notes down on the clipboard before looking at Dean again. "Well, Dean, it seems you and this Castiel are both very troubled people. One thing you need to keep in mind is that you can't save everyone. You can try and help him but if his problems bring you down, it's okay to step away. You have yourself to take care of. Putting your own well being first isn't selfish, it's healthy."

Dean looked up at the doctor after she said that, confusion on his face. He'd never been told that before. Growing up it had always been look after Sammy and currently in an effort to make up for his failure there he tried to save as many other people as he could. He'd never been told that putting himself first was okay, that it was healthy and that it wasn't selfish. He wasn't allowed the luxury of self care. He took care of others and if he deteriorated to nothing then that was just how it was.

"For your exercise this week I want you to focus on you. Do things for yourself. If that means going for a drive or seeing that new movie instead of doing overtime, do that. Give yourself a break and enjoy it." said Dr. Braedan, a small smile on her face. All Dean could do in reaction was nod.

 

Castiel showed up for work at the Roadhouse with bags under his eyes, greasy hair, and what looked to be the start of a beard. He worked just as hard as he had been before but it was obvious his physical appearance was slipping. The nightmares had started to get worse and he would wake up screaming. Since he now lived with other people, this would disturb them and he'd gotten a lot of complaints. His solution was to just stay up and fit a small nap in but that had been a bad idea since he woke up feeling even worse. 

Ellen obviously noticed the difference in his appearance since she pulled him aside halfway through his shift to have a talk with him. "Kid, what's wrong with you? You look like shit."

"Oh, thanks." said Castiel, a touch of sarcasm to his voice. While in his right mind he wouldn't dream of speaking that way to a woman like her, sleep deprivation took away self preservation instincts.

"Okay, I understand this isn't exactly a five star place but you can't come to work looking like a homeless person. I'm warning you, tomorrow you better come in looking decent. Understand?" said Ellen.

Castiel nodded before returning to work sweeping the floor. The rest of his shift was uneventful but he was happy to get out of there and away from Ellen's hawk-like gaze. He ended up just driving around for a while in an effort to clear his head. The radio played lowly in the background on some random station, him unable to decipher the lyrics of the songs when they played. Finally, he ended up back at the boarding house and parked his car again. He turned off the ignition but didn't get out. Instead, he just sat there and stared at the area ahead of him as he thought about how one little incident was enough to tear down all the progress he was sure he'd made.

A tear slid down his face but he quickly wiped it off before getting out and slamming the door shut. He kicked the tire but only got a hurt foot for his efforts. Sighing, he patted the car before climbing up the steps of the building and walking inside.

 

Dean left Dr. Braedan's office not sure how he felt about the session as a whole. One feeling that dominated, though, was that of vulnerability. She'd finished with telling him that it was okay to tell people no. No wasn't something in his vocabulary. He'd always obeyed his father and in the military it was always 'yes sir' or 'yes ma'am' when given an order. There was no room for refusing what anyone told him. He was so used to saying yes to everything that he didn't realize there was any other way to be. It also opened his eyes a bit that he didn't have to always be the savior to everyone. Still, being aware of that and actually stopping the reaction would be two different things. It was still his instinct to sacrifice his life for everyone else's.

He drove back to the scrap yard and started work, assessing a car someone had found and wanted restored. It looked to be a '79 mustang that had been sitting for a long time before this person found it. It would certainly be a project but Dean liked a challenge. Smiling, he turned on some music before getting to work on the car. Outside, the wind was beating against the walls of the aluminum building as more snow piled around. Later he'd have to take the snow plow Bobby had and make pathways again. It was falling faster than he could clear it it seemed.

He worked until he heard someone come in. He rolled out from under the car and saw that Bobby was there. A silent wave was exchanged, Dean not knowing what to say after he'd basically threatened to bash his head in with a crowbar the day before. That wasn't something that was easily forgotten.

"You should probably stop for the day. It's 7 and you worked straight through your lunch break." said Bobby as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Huh." said Dean. There weren't any windows in the small building so it had been pretty had to keep track of time. When he was working on cars it was extremely easy to lose himself and forget that his body had basic needs to survive. "Yeah, I'll pack it in for day and meet you inside. Just give me a second." He rolled under the car again and tightened what he'd been working before sliding out for good and standing up. Laying down on the board for so long definitely showed up on his back and he reached behind himself to rub it as he put his tools away before wiping his hands off with a wet rag. He pulled on the discarded jacket on the table before turning the light off and making the cold walk back to the house.

 

Castiel ended up with a mediocre t.v dinner for his meal and watching bad t.v on his laptop. He felt his body wanting to give in to sleep from the darkness outside and the fact that he only had one lamp on in the room. He didn't have the luxury of coffee since he'd forgotten to purchase it when he'd gone shopping for himself and he wasn't willing to make the trip to a convenience store at this hour so he was stuck with his meager willpower alone. Every few seconds his eyes would slide shut before he'd get them wide open again. This pattern continued for two hours before he finally fell asleep for good, his body unable to take the lack of sleep paired with the dark room and the warm covers and full stomach.

 

_Castiel walked through the front door of his house after a long days work, wanting nothing more than to eat and lose himself in a random t.v show. Nothing was the same since Sharon died. After hanging his coat up in the closet he walked into the kitchen to find a woman standing at the counter and it sounding like she was chopping something. She had long red hair, the same as Sharon's and she was wearing a thin, full length skirt, another thing of Sharon's. Out of shock, Castiel could only stand in the entrance to the kitchen and watched the way her arms moved as she continued her rhythmic movements._

_"Honey, aren't you going to come into the kitchen? I'm making your favorite meal, beef stew. All the vegetables are fresh and the meat has been slow cooking all day." said the woman in Sharon's voice._

_Swallowing, Castiel stepped into the kitchen and walked closer to the woman until he was right behind her. He lifted his hand up and reached out until he was about to touch her shoulder. After hesitating for a few seconds, he finally touched her and his fingers curled over comfortably where they'd used to rest all the time. Unlike all the times before, however, the woman tense. The sound of her chopping stopped and she set the knife down._

_"Is something wrong?" asked Castiel, his voice shaking slightly._

_"Oh, nothings wrong dear." said Sharon before turning around to reveal a mangled face. Her head then tipped at an unnatural angle and her body looked broken. "Just what you did to me."_

_Castiel stumbled back at the deformed sight of his wife. "No...I...it was an accident...I never meant for that to happen!"_

_"You never meant for it to happen? Of course you didn't! But you were so confidant and look what I had to suffer!" said Sharon as she hobbled closer to Castiel, her body now starting to decompose._

_"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." said Castiel as a choked sob._

_"Sorry isn't good enough, honey. Why should you live? Why should you live?!" Sharon yelled before snapping his neck._

Castiel woke suddenly, his hands flying to his neck to make sure it wasn't broken. This, in turn, sent his lap top and empty t.v dinner container crashing to the floor. One of his neighbors banging on the wall and told him to be quiet which had become an almost nightly thing. Sighing, he got out of bed and set the laptop on the desk and threw the food container in the trash. The nightmare was still sending chills through him and he felt like he had to tell somebody about it.

He looked at his cellphone before grabbing it and going through his contacts. He pressed call and was relieved when the person on the other side answered the phone. "Are you still available to talk?"


End file.
